


Entrusted

by missmishka



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I ship Isaac/Scott now-need more of them!, M/M, Multi, OMG that scene!, SPOILERS for episode 2x08 "Raving", ok so maybe Isaac's kind of "in" to everyone right now, preslash, this could be the start of something big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmishka/pseuds/missmishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall, the biggest bleeding heart in all of Beacon Hills.  He actually <b>cares</b> about all the losers in this town...including <i>Isaac?</i><br/>*Isaac's thoughts at the rave in that exchange with Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fanbabble first: OMG, my feels after this episode AND the scene between Isaac and Scott. My first Teen Wolf fanfic and my mind boggles that it isn't a Derek/Stiles fic because Sterek is what got me into this fandom and watching the show, but WHOA Isaac's expression when Scott said he didn't want him to get hurt? I think one of my muses spontaneously combusted. 
> 
> Now the DISCLAIMER: The usual warnings, I claim no ownership of these characters, they are simply borrowed with love and adoration from the original creators to have their stories embellished on a little more than the show may do. Not for any profit.

“You’ve got to do it intravenously, which means in the vein,” Scott explains the plan like Isaac’s too simple to understand the instructions.

Derek had warned them all to play nice until they’d eliminated Jackson and the Kanima as a threat, so Isaac stifles the urge to slash McCall’s throat to demonstrate that he understood big words; words like exsanguinate as he watched Scott choke and suffocate on his own blood as it bled out.

The sudden brush of fingers against his own draws Isaac from that fun little fantasy and he realizes Scott is talking. 

Still. 

_What was it with this one and Stilinski and the talking? **Men** did not talk so much.  **Ever**.  About anything._

He startles back to paying attention when Scott’s fingers breach the personal space bubble near Isaac’s throat.  Their whole posture, huddling together like this is intimate, but that gesture; those fingertips stirring the air at the nape of his neck… it was unsettling.

He nods his understanding of the instructions, takes the syringe and straightens away from those fingers. 

All the kid had had to say was “Take this, jab Jackson in the neck and push down the plunger until the vial is emptied into his veins.”  **_Boom_**.  Simple, easy to follow and requiring no almost touching between them.

“Be careful,” Scott adds.

Isaac chuckles at that, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as well.

“Doubt I’ll even slightly hurt him,” he looks at the needle in his hands and remembers his encounters with both Jackson as Jackson and Jackson as the Kanima and he thinks a grenade launcher would have a slightly better chance at working.

“No, I mean you,” Scott’s tone is intent and serious, drawing Isaac’s full attention. 

Their eyes lock and Isaac waits for the punch line; or, in keeping with the pattern of his life, he waits for the punch. 

The blow comes completely out of nowhere, lands solidly in Isaac’s gut and leaves him feeling pole axed; all without any physical contact on Scott’s part.

_“I don’t want you to get hurt.”_

Scott means it. 

His voice; his eyes; the set of his facial features declare that he is concerned for Isaac’s welfare in carrying out the assignment he has given. 

His dad, Derek, teachers, coaches and every other authority figure in Isaac’s life have always just told him to do something and expected him to get it done, any damage to the boy be damned, but Scott didn’t want him to get hurt.

Their gazes stay locked for another moment while Isaac absorbs the knowledge that someone is actually seeing _him_ ; realizing that werewolf or not he can be hurt and killed and someone actually _cares_ enough to not want either of those things to happen.  Sure, that someone is Scott McCall, biggest bleeding-heart in all of Beacon Hills, but the moment feels…nice.

Then another moment passes and they’re still looking at one another and the intensity of Scott’s dark, soulful eyes seem to convey _more_ than a friendly concern; or maybe Isaac’s being an idiot and just _imagining_ more.  He suddenly **_wants_** more and his head drifts ever so slightly forward to dip his toe in the waters because if this were some cheesy sitcom or silly comic there’d be ridiculous signs and cheers right now for him to “kiss him” and damned if he isn’t tempted to do it.

He doesn’t seriously think for a moment that Scott’s coming on to him; the guy has Allison Argent to make out with on a regular basis, why would he want anything to do with a lanky loser like Isaac?  But still, the pheromones flooding the warehouse are overwhelming his senses and he’d swear he can detect Scott’s arousal in the mix.

He leans further and Scott pulls back; but it isn’t revulsion or flat out rejection in his expression.  He almost seems to be snapping himself out of the spell they’d been falling into to get his mind back on task; but his eyes said the spell had not been fully broken.  Scott doesn’t say anything else as he draws away; nothing more spills from his lips, but his chin gives this subtle jerk that seems to say “later” and his eyes are making promises for that _later._

Isaac finds himself leaning back against the pillar; standing only thanks to it propping him up.  He’s knees feel liquid and his feet unsteady; like some damned fangirl who’s just gotten a kiss on the cheek from fucking Bieber or something. 

_Seriously, what the hell was **that**?_

He doesn’t know; doesn’t know if he _wants_ to know.

What he does know is that he has an assignment to carry out and his gut churns with the want and resolution to not fail.

Not because Derek will bust his balls forever if the plan fails in any way that can be traced back to Isaac.

Not because he gives a damn about keeping the Argent’s from capturing Jackson and doing God knows what to the arrogant prick.

He cannot fail because Scott asked him to do this.

Scott _needed_ him to do this.

And if Isaac gets a bruise or scratch in carrying out this mission maybe McCall will kiss it better seeing as how Scott doesn’t want Isaac to get hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If and maybe and wasted wishes.

“That looked cozy,” Erica smirks as she circles the pillar to lean seductively beside him.

Isaac tries and fails not to show that her sudden appearance has caught him unawares.  His hand fumbles with the syringe as he mentally shakes himself from the stupor Scott’s words had left him in.

“Ooh, shiny,” her eyes latch on to the device and she snags it from his hands.  “So what’s the plan?”

“We take this,” he emphasizes the ‘take’ and ‘this’ by reclaiming the syringe from her before she can uncap the needle, “and stick it in Jackson.”

“Just like that?” her carefully shaped left eyebrow arches with the same skepticism dripping from her words.

“More or less,” he shrugs his shoulders and turns to look out over the crowd for their target.  “We just have to get close enough to make sure it all goes in intravenously.”

His searching eyes move in her direction to find her staring at him with a questioning look that makes him sigh inwardly.

“That means in the vein,” he explains; thinking this must be how Scott had felt just moments before as he relayed the plan to Isaac.  “We need to get close enough to put it in the bloodstream fast, so the easiest target will be his neck.”

“’ _We_?’” her eyebrow mocks him as she subtly eases shifts back as if to distance herself from the plan. “ _I_ wasn’t invited to your little pow wow with the Wonder Wolf,” she flicks a stray clump of hair back over her shoulder in silent declaration that she hadn’t _wanted_ to be a part of that huddle.  “Sounds like _you_ have a fun night ahead.”

“You think Derek won’t nail your ass to the wall beside mine if I can’t do this?” he tries to match the condescending arch of her eyebrow but doubts he could achieve the same expression even if he waxed his brow like she did.  “If _we_ don’t get the Kanima tonight, more people are going to die.”

“Aww,” she gives an exaggerated moue of concern and reaches up to stroke his cheek.  “You almost sound like you care.”

“Jackson has kicked both our asses and if we keep trying to stop him, _we_ could be the next to die,” Isaac flicks her hand away in disgust at her short sightedness.  “Even if he doesn’t turn on us, another death will bring the Argent’s and the police down even heavier on this town and that puts the pack at risk.  Don’t you listen to anything Derek says?”

“Honestly?  Not a word,” she gives a genuine smile and eases her posture to recline comfortably against the pillar.  “You can’t blame a girl for being distracted by _other_ things when he’s all worked up and lecturing.  Have you seen how his muscles go all taut and flexy and his eyes get so sharp and focused and he’s so damned serious it’s all I can do not to tear off my clothes and jump him.”

She’s clearly getting lost in a favored fantasy and Isaac can only stare at her as the words start to fade with the visual.

He’s already seen her throw herself at their Alpha for a lip lock that went utterly wasted on the man, but if Derek is anywhere near as _male_ as Isaac then Erica’s tearing off her clothes first could just do the trick to get a response if she ever decides to have another go at the guy.  He has half a mind to tell her to try the fantasy out on _him_ and see how it works.

His side twitches under the weight of an intense stare locked in on him and he immediately yanks away from those thoughts to scan the warehouse for the source of the look.

_Scott._

He should have known who it was just from how his body _felt_ from a mere stare.

From across the distance he can sense the other boy telling him to focus, asking if he’s seen Jackson and reminding Isaac to be careful all with a single glance.  Not even Derek’s stares are _that_ effective; mostly because his Alpha is nowhere near as emotive as McCall.

Gulping at a sudden knot of tension in his chest, Isaac gives a nod of understanding to all of Scott’s silent communications as he straightens to full height to scan the warehouse.

At six foot one he’s far from the tallest kid in town, but he does have a fair advantage in this crowd that averaged below six feet in height.  He does another scan of the wildly dancing bodies; moving slow and sweeping thoroughly for any sign of Jackson’s frosted blonde head or buff body.  When his search once again comes up empty he seeks out Scott to relay to the other boy that their target remains absent.

He can practically feel McCall’s disappointment across the crowd and Isaac takes the weight of it into himself like a personal failure.  He knows he has no control over whether Jackson even shows up tonight, but so much hinges on this plan working for Scott that Isaac actually does _care_ about at least one thing.

“You’re wishing on Venus there,” Erica says to remind him of her presence at his side.

Again, she manages to startle him thank to the way that Scott is distracting his senses tonight and it takes him a second to recover himself enough to process her words.

His mind replays the words and he shakes his head to rewind the tape and try another listen through for comprehension.

“What?” he’s forced to ask as the sentence just doesn’t click on any logical level.

“Wishing on Venus,” she repeats with a glance from him to Scott then back again.  “Every girl grows up wishes on stars; especially the first star in the sky because we’re told that it's the one that wishes are granted on, but then we grow up and we find out that that star we’ve been gazing at and wishing on all along isn’t a star at all.  It’s Venus.  So if wishing on stars ever really does work, your wishes have all been screwed because you’ve been wasting them all on a frickin' planet.”

To her it makes sense; Isaac knows it makes sense because she’s so relaxed and comfortable with the explanation, but to him?  He tilts his head to the side and stares at her with all the befuddlement of a puppy trying to comprehend why a person is standing over it with a nice, meaty treat in their hand but isn't giving said treat to the cute little puppy.

“Neither of us have a chance, doofus,” Erica simplifies; sighs at the puppy dog expression and stares past him towards where Scott had been.

 _Had been_ , Isaac knows because he had actually _felt_ the other boy leave the area; taking some kind of basic and calming energy with him that Isaac immediately missed.

“Yeah,” he sighs, slouching back against the pillar as the absence of Jackson gives them some time to talk.  “Allison has him all wrapped around her little finger.”

“I wish it were that simple,” she leans closer; commiserating in such a way that Isaac doesn’t even question himself for failing to deflect the notion that _he_ has any interest in Scott McCall.  “The whole high school sweethearts thing passes over time.  Their added Romeo and Juliet complex is drawing it out, but it’ll get old soon enough.”

Her expression is thoughtful as she scans the crowd; eyes lingering on some of the ‘happy’ couples writhing on the impromptu dance floor.

“It’s just a phase; it’ll pass,” she continues, but he wonders at the subject she’s referencing before her attention returns to him.  “We’re Derek’s pack.”

He frowns at that oddly placed notion and gives her a variation of the confused puppy stare since it worked earlier to get her to translate from girltalk to something his brain could follow.

“We picked the wrong pony to win this one,” she tucks her hands into the front pockets of her barely there denim skirt and goes back to aimlessly looking over the crowd.  “McCall’s a sucker.  He thinks all of this; the being a werewolf, is a curse.  Derek was born this way, but _we_ chose it.  Without a way to undo it all; if we even wanted to; we’re pretty much automatic on the outs with the goody goody.”

She seems to have come to grips with the idea, though resentfully; indicating that she’s given it more thought than Isaac has had time to and he heeds the warning.

Isaac gets what she’s saying all too easily.

It doesn’t matter that Scott is with the pack to capture the Kanima.  Derek still planned to kill Jackson to insure that the threat is eliminated; no matter that the Kanima within Whittemore is being controlled and used like a weapon by someone else who posed a greater danger to them all.  Scott’s objective is vastly different from the Alpha’s and, forgiving as McCall may appear to be, Isaac knows that Derek’s endgame would drive an insurmountable wedge between them.

If Jackson dies because of the pack then Isaac will be delegated to the ‘bad guy’ while Scott remained the goodest of the good.  Like any guy, he's not vehemently opposed to the notion of becoming a badass, but something in him balks at the idea of killing someone; even an asshole like Jackson Whittemore chose to be. 

Perhaps Isaac and Scott are meant to fill the roles of opposing forces for the way things have come to be, but a small voice grows strength in the back of his head to remind that there are some pretty big _‘if’s_ there.

 **If** they can succeed in capturing Jackson.

 **If** the pack even has a chance of doing anything about the Kanima before the Argents crash in.

Mostly, there is the _if_ of whether Isaac will obey Derek.

The hard edges of the syringe imprint an odd pattern on the palm of his hand as his fingers tighten around the device.  Having been given this assignment; entrusted with this duty, also gives Isaac the realization that he doesn’t _have_ to play the villain.

Maybe one of Scott’s plans will actually work and, while not necessarily the ‘hero,’ maybe Isaac can finally do something _right_.

Maybe Isaac has a choice now.  A choice that he could make without hurt and anger clouding his judgement like it had been when Derek approached with the offer to be bitten; to be given the strength and power to no longer suffer at his father's hands. 

If Erica’s allegory has any merit then maybe now that Isaac knows that he’s been dealing with Venus he can redirect his focus to the _actual_ star and make a new wish to see if it comes true.

 _As **if**_ _Isaac Lahey would ever again make the mistake of trying something as useless making a wish._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation: Threesome on the dancefloor.

It’s as if a chill is passing through the place; something cold and ominous descends upon them, stopping the conversation between Erica and Isaac.

They feel it at the same time; faces growing serious as they straighten away from the pillar to search the crowd for the source of the negative energy.  The fact that she senses Jackson in the same way that Isaac does makes him wonder briefly if she had felt the positive energy of Scott leaving moments before.

Isaac spots their target first; cutting through the crowd like a blade with no care or regard for the dancing couples or groups he slices apart on his way. 

“Where’s he going?” Erica leans against his side to ask as she finally spots the other boy.

“Nowhere good,” Isaac frowns at the deadest expression on Jackson’s face and shifts the syringe in his hand to ready it to plunge into the teenager’s neck.

“Whoa,” Erica puts a strong hand on his arm to stop him before he could do more than turn to follow the guy.  “What’s the plan?”

He sighs and lifts the injector in his hand, “Jab him in the neck.”

“You cannot just walk up and stab him with that,” she shakes her head at the very notion and takes the syringe from him.  “He’ll either not stop for you to get it done or he’ll snap your neck.”

“Fine,” he crosses him arm over his chest and stares at her in challenge, “got any better ideas?”

“Distract him.”

“He looks pretty determined to me,” Isaac turns to frown in the direction Jackson seem so resolute in going; trying to see what possible target the other guy has.

“Sex,” she declares suddenly and a little loudly from the stares that turn their way.

“Now?” he blinks at her with his jaw all but dropping because she’s been testing her feminine wiles on him since Derek brought her into the pack, but it’s really only just been mutual flirting and testing of their new skills.

“Not _us,_ ” her eyes roll at him.  “We just need to get Jackson thinking with the little head for a minute so you can inject him.”

“And we do that how?” he asks, watching as she beings a quick routine of moistening her lips with a shimmer of lip gloss, fluffing her hair to give it a slightly tousled look then moving her hands to do something to her boobs that makes them look even perkier under her blouse.

His eyes stay on her chest even after her hands drop away and he stares distractedly at the slight swell of flesh under her top; his little head threatens to distract _him_ from their assignment.

“Watch and learn,” a wicked grin curls her lips as she accurately reads his expression.  “Follow my lead.”

Her free hand trails down the center of his chest while she tucks the syringe into his pants pocket.  She gives him a wink then reaches out to tangle her right hand in his left before turning to lead him through the crowd.  Her body begins a seductive bob and weave to the music as she moves; her hips swivel with her stride.  His eyes drop; unbidden by him, but just as she intended, to watch the motion of her ass as she went; to watch the way the hem of that little skirt kept shifting in an almost reveal of any underwear she may or may not have been wearing. 

_For someone who’s only been a hot chick for like a day, she did have all the moves down for reducing a teenaged boy to drool._

Thinking of Erica sexually is familiar; comforting after his unusual thoughts regarding Scott McCall.  He lets his mind and body go to the music and energy of the crowd.  His head begins to bob to the beat and he slides his free hand to her hip to absorb the sway of her body so that it became easy for him to mimic the motions.  She casts a quick glance over her shoulder, her smile all womanly power as she sees the slight ease of tension from his shoulders as they move to the music.

They slip up behind Jackson and she eases away to turn those powers on the other boy.  Her hand slides to Whittemore’s bare neck without hesitation and Isaac allows himself a passing thought that she could have very easily just jabbed the guy in that neck right there.  Then Jackson tenses from the touch and Isaac knows that only Erica’s seductive smile is the only thing that keeps the scene from getting ugly when the teenager turns at the touch.

Her fingers stay on Jackson, stroking with apparent delight at the feel of warm, male flesh and she nuzzles her head against the boy’s throat.  Following her lead, as instructed, Isaac mimics the move and mouths at her shoulder meeting Jackson’s eyes and finding the other boy’s face to be very, very close.  Erica shifts between them, twining her free arm up around Isaac’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss that she never gives.

Sex fills his senses; the scent of it around him; the _want_ of it within him.  In the moment of pure, basic energy even Jackson looks good.  _Damned_ good. 

It seems natural for Isaac’s head to dip forward over Erica’s shoulder to press his own lips to that same mouth and Jackson welcomes it.  Isaac’s fingers catch in a belt loop on Jackson’s jeans as the other boy’s hand curls around the side of his neck and he feels those slick lips open under his; feels Jackson’s tongue push into his mouth and instinctively pushes against it with his own to reject the intrusion.  Erica grinds her butt back into his groin and his tongue suddenly changes course to curl around Jackson’s and draw it deeper into his mouth.

They could have been having sex; right then, right there.  The three of them.  Taken over by the beat of the techno dance music and the pulse of the energetic crowd.

Isaac has had some heady moments since turning into a werewolf, but this one set the high mark.

As Jackson pulls away, Isaac realizes that at his age; at this point in his life the boy or girl issue didn’t so much matter as much as a chance to touch, taste and _feel_.  He licks his lips, tasting traces of Erica’s lip gloss and wondering what Scott’s mouth would have tasted like.  What Scott’s hand would have felt like holding his neck like Jackson’s had during the kiss.

That hand slides away, moving to Erica’s waist as she writhes between them.  Jackson’s fingers curl in the fabric of her shirt, causing it to rise up just enough in the back for Isaac to see a flash of skin.  He’s tempted to touch that stripe of flesh, but she suddenly flicks her hair back in his face, gives him a pointed glance over her shoulder then slides her hand down his side to grab at the syringe in his pocket. 

She has only herself to blames for his getting so caught up in the moment that he forgot what they were doing this for. 

He pulls the syringe out while she sways back against him; the device in his hand again focuses his mind of what he needs to do.  On what Scott needs _him_ to do.

Isaac doesn’t know if his face revealed some of the secret delight he felt at the idea of stabbing the needle into Jackson or if the Kanima had just known the plan all along, but before Isaac can inject the boy Jackson jabs his claws into them.  Erica gasps out a faint cry as those elongated fingernails pierce her side and Isaac feels a similar noise rise from his throat as his flesh is punctured. 

The paralytic goes in and they both go down; the needle dropping from Isaac’s hand in the process.

He feels failure coursing through him faster and stronger than the venom Jackson’s touch and he can’t let it overtake him.  He _has_ to do this.

Holding his side and pinching the flesh like that would stop the spread from the puncture points; he shifts from under Erica’s prone body and looks around for the syringe.  He sees it and moves sluggishly to reach for it when some idiot’s dancing feet kicks it away.  He crawls after it only to have it kicked again in a ridiculous kind of ‘keep away.’

He counts himself lucky that none of those feet are kicking or stepping on him and hurries after the needle until his fingers finally latch on to the device.  He pushes himself up to kneel then to stand with the syringe in hand.

Panting against the hurt in his side he locks his eyes on Jackson’s back and lunges after his target.  He reaches out with his free hand and snags a belt loop on the other boy’s jeans, but he’s not about to kiss that traitorous asshole ever again.  As he uses the hold to stop Jackson’s forward motion, he lifts the needle and stabs it into the side of the boy’s neck.

“How’s that feel?” he grits out against Jackson’s ear as he empties the vial of ketamine into the boy’s vein.

Considering that the vet seemed to be a caring kind of guy, Isaac doubts that whatever he’s just injected stings or burns like the stuff from Jackson’s claws, but he hoped it hurt. 

It surprises the hell out of him that it actually seems to work as Jackson’s body begins to go slack from the drug.  He begins to realize one potential flaw in the plan as the boy begins to collapse in his arms, but a quick glance around assures him that no one cares a damn what he’s doing. 

Just as he could have been having sex with Erica and Jackson moments before; he could have just killed the boy and none of the crowd would have paused in their dancing to voice concern.

_Gotta love the self-absorbed ignorance of youth._

He has a brief moment of worry as he wraps Jackson in a bear hug to keep the limp body from falling to the floor.  Isaac has achieved the goal he was given; he injected the boy with the drug so they could get him in hand and done it without serious bodily harm to anyone involved, but… _now what?_

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's Scott?

Isaac bumps into someone while backing through the crowd, but unlike the others he’s come up against, this body doesn’t just move out of his way.  He twists his head around to find Erica standing behind him, clutching her side and glaring at the limp form in his arms.

“It worked?” she growls without taking her eyes from Jackson.

“He’s out.  For now at least,” he shifts his burden as it grows heavier with them just standing there.  “Not the best time to talk,” he groans as Jackson threatens to slide down to the floor.

She looks around, sees them drawing a few stares and moves quickly to grab at the boy’s limp arm.  They each hook an arm over their shoulders to hold the slack body up between them and move quickly through the crowd.  They burst through a set of swinging doors into a relatively empty hallway and Isaac pauses to get his bearings. 

“This way,” he turns to begin moving along the corridor in the direction of the room in the back that he vaguely remembers Scott showing him after the teenager had scoped out the location for the rave.

He pushes into the room, finds it empty except for a metal folding chair and pauses on the threshold.

“Scott should be here,” he frowns before turning to look down the hallway for a sign of the other boy.

He can’t sense Scott nearby and Isaac is pretty sure this is the room they’d chosen as ideal to hold Jackson in until they could find whoever was controlling the Kanima then get the monster’s teenaged host safely away from the crowd.

“Kinda heavy here,” Erica groans and slouches down under Jackson’s weight.

Isaac turns to her with a scoff and shoulders the full weight of the lacrosse co-captain with some obvious disdain at her complaint.

“Hey,” she stands up straight and props a hand on her hip at his look, “you’re lucky I’m able to help at all.  That bastard packs a wicked punch.  Do have any idea what I went through after his last scratch?”

Her eyes grow distant with the painful memory as she unconsciously rubs the forearm Derek had broken and wrung to get the venom out of her veins.  Isaac had heard the story.  Stiles had only told it a few dozen times in his numerous rants about the Alpha.

He doesn’t get into any more discussion with her on the topic, just moves to deposit Jackson in the chair then straightens to look around the room.

“This isn’t right,” he mutters, scratching at the back of his neck as something seems to be tickling at the hairs there.  Where’s Scott?  And Stilinski should be here, too.  This was _their_ idea.”

“They’re probably on their way,” she gives a careless shrug and hugs herself against the slight chill in the room.

“I’m going to go look-“

“And leave me here alone with _him_ ,” she interrupts with genuine fear; moving to position herself to bar his exit.

“He’s unconscious,” Isaac sighs.  “If he starts to come around, just give him another dose.”

He pulls out the extra vials of ketamine that he had in his pocket and goes to hand them to her along with the syringe.

“Comes around,” she says with her brow arches at something behind Isaac, “like, how, exactly?”

This is one of those times that he really kind of hates her as he reloads the syringe without even looking behind him to know that Jackson’s probably about to kill him.  He whips around to find the boy merely stirring in the chair, head twisting and lips moving on words that even Isaac’s ears can’t decipher. 

Minor as the movement is, it’s still enough to unsettle him as much as it does Erica so Isaac doesn’t hesitate to shove another injection in Jackson’s throat.  As soon as he pulls the needle away having emptied another vial, Jackson’s head falls back to hang limply over the back of the chair before his body does a boneless slide to the floor.

“There,” he stands over the prone form with some satisfaction and feels no compunction at leaving Jackson lying there.  “See?  Just give him another dose and you’ll be fine.”

He again moves to give her the injector and two remaining vials but she stubbornly wraps her arms around herself and refuses to take them.

“You seem to have things well in hand here,” she casts a glance toward Jackson.  “ _I’ll_ go see what’s holding up the wunderkinds.”

She bolts before he has a chance to argue and Isaac growls in aggravation at the empty space she had occupied. He moves to close the single steel door into the room then gives the space a disparaging once over.

He has no idea what the room is supposed to be with its tin siding walls, boarded over window and the oddly placed sink.  The sink implies bathroom, but there’s no commode or shower.  The folding chair is the only place to sit and Isaac steps over Jackson’s body to sit down and wait.  He wishes he had brought his cell phone to play some Angry Birds then he gets the bright idea to ‘borrow’ Jackson’s IPhone.

Not as dumb as pretty much everyone thinks him to be, Isaac gives Whittemore’s shoulder a nudge with his foot to make sure the body doesn’t stir before he goes fishing in the guy’s pockets.  He has his hand under Jackson’s butt and deep in a back pocket when the boy starts to squirm beneath him.  Even though his fingers had just brushed over the sleek surface of the cell phone he sought Isaac yanks his hand away as if burnt and fumbles in his own pants for the syringe and another vial.

He looks at the door then the needle then Jackson and wonders if he should be more sparing with the injections; hold off on another dose until Scott gets there to decide what they should be doing with their captive. 

Then Jackson’s hand flails out, hits Isaac’s ankle and he immediately drops to a knee beside the boy to administer another shot; he wasn’t about to take any chances while shut in this room alone with this … _thing_.

He moves to stand in the corner, away from Jackson’s out flung limbs and just watches the guy lie there on the cement floor. 

 _They should have brought rope_ , he thinks, imagining himself somewhat safer with the other boy bound to the chair. Then he considers the fragility of rope and knows how the Kanima would just pop right through such restraint and thinks they should have brought chains.

_Everyone on the lacrosse team knew that Stiles had an ungodly amount of heavy, large linked chain readily available and Scott hadn’t thought to maybe bring it for capturing the Kanima?_

Isaac sighs and resists the urge to pace the room; feeling caged and useless when he could and should be doing _something_.

The doorknob turns and he springs away from the wall, but knows before it opens that it isn’t McCall on the other side of the door.  Erica pushes her way in and looks immediately to the unconscious pile of Jackson on the floor.

“Still not here?” she asks after assuring herself that the guy wasn’t doing anything more than breathing.

She looks around the small space like Isaac has maybe hidden Scott and Stiles somewhere; like he would have tucked them into the sink for shits and giggles.

“I thought you were _looking_ for them,” he glowers, trying to channel their Alpha through the glare.

Erica is undaunted by the effort and gives a careless shrug.

“I looked, didn’t see them in the crowd.”

“Because they would have been _outside_ of it,” he groans.  “Scott was watching the building for the Argents and Jackson and Stiles was out circling the building with his …fairy dust or whatever the vet gave him,” Isaac allows himself to pace now, but controls the urge to pull at his hair.  “I should have gone to look for them.”

“Or maybe you could have _told me_ about all of that before I went looking,” she bristles at the criticism.

“Maybe if you had waited a _second_ before leaving, I _would_ have,” he gets in her face and snaps.

Her eyes narrow and lips pucker at his flash of fang before she deliberately wipes the traces of anger from her face and turns on the sexy again.

“What’s the big deal?” she gives a seductive half-smile and slings an arm around his neck.  “So we have a few more minutes alone.  We could have some fun with it.”

She trails a single finger down the center of his chest towards the front of his pants like she’s really going to _do_ something with him, but he’s wise to that trick now after her plan to get Jackson.  She wants Isaac thinking with the little head rather than arguing with her and pointing out any faults and while his little head is stirring with some interest in being distracted _he_ isn’t about to get off track again.

He deliberately waits until she’s stroking over the swell of his erection before he circles his fingers around her wrist and moves her hand away.

“I suppose you’ll want to wake Jackson up to join in, too, right?” he sneers with a sideways glance at the boy.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat,” she grins unrepentantly before casting her own glance at the guy.

Her smile quickly drops and she backs towards the wall with dread overtaking her features.

Without even looking or asking, he shoves his hand into his pocket for the last vial, reloads the syringe and moves to jam it into Jackson’s neck as the boy is trying to push himself up off the floor.

“I really hate this guy,” Isaac sighs before flinging the empty needle aside as useless now that he’s already given the last dose they had had.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where IS Scott?

Isaac stands in the corner watching Erica pace the room with a slight feeling of superiority over the girl. 

He would have felt her completely inferior to his greater prowess as a werewolf if the urge to pace alongside her wasn’t clawing at his insides, but he was controlling the agitation so he gave himself a gold star for that much.

Her foot comes into contact with Jackson’s splayed leg and she jumps a foot into the air with a shriek for the third time in the past few minutes.  He stifles a laugh as she stumbles to lean against the wall while she composed herself once more.

“He can _not_ stay there,” she declares with a whip of her hair that indicates that the _queen_ had declared and would be obeyed.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Move him,” Erica enunciates each word as its own sentence while glaring at him.

“To where?” he gives a pointed look at their sparse and cramped surroundings.

“At least put him back in the chair,” she slouches with a sigh when she sees his point.

Rolling his eyes, Isaac moves to comply; not sure if he’s mocking her for the order or himself for doing as she asks.  He muscles Jackson’s uncooperative bulk back to sit up in the chair then steps back to wait for the guy to do another boneless glide to the floor. 

Isaac is less than thrilled when the guy actually stay sitting with his head and arms hanging limp, but the rest of him seeming … solid.

Erica sees the same thing and creeps along the wall to stand beside him.

“Do you think its working?”

Isaac figures four full doses of the Ketamine in just a matter of minutes would probably down an elephant according to what the veterinarian had implied, so, _no,_ he doesn’t think it’s doing a damned thing against the Kanima.

Before he can open his mouth to actually _say_ that to her the door knob turns and someone begins to push in to the room.  He should have known it to be Stilinski, but Isaac only senses that it _isn’t_ Scott and he instinctively moves to brace himself for attack.

“No, no, no no no.  Just me,” Stiles puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture upon seeing Isaac draw back his fist.  “It’s just me.”

“Where’s Scott?” Isaac growls without relaxing his fist.

“Well, let’s see,” Stiles scuttles into the room and closes the door behind himself.  “We’re in the middle of a big, important mission that is all Scott’s idea, so…as usual, he’s nowhere to be found.  My guess would be canoodling with Allison.  It’s this thing that they seem to do when there’s something actually _important_ going on.”

Erica snorts out a laugh at Stiles’s sarcastic wit in regards to his best friend, but Isaac doesn’t want sarcasm.  He wants to know where Scott _is_ and he doesn’t think for a moment that there’s any ‘canoodling’ involved. 

_Or maybe he just doesn’t want to accept that Scott might be making out with his girlfriend after the boy had gone and put Isaac’s head in a spin like some top._

“He okay?” Stiles interrupts his thoughts to ask.

Isaac’s eyes move in the direction of Stiles’s chin jerk and he focuses on Jackson; seeing the unconscious body as a perfect outlet for his sudden anger.

“Well,” he steps boldly toward the chair, “let’s find out.”

He flashes out his claws and prepares to jab them into Jackson’s chest in a bit of payback for the asshole’s move on the dancefloor, but said asshole has apparently been playing possum.

Without opening his eyes, Jackson’s hand latches on to Isaac’s wrist before he comes anywhere close to touching the guy and he feels the bones in his forearm compressing under the strength that Whittemore exerts on him.  The pain of it brings Isaac to his knees and Jackson doesn’t even seem to be doing anything.  He sees his fingertips turning blue as the grip pinches the veins in his arm and he can’t even cry out because it’s all so sudden and painful.

Grunting and panting with the effort; Isaac manages to tear himself free of that hold and he cradles his injured arm to his chest and retreats to the corner.

“Ok,” Stiles decrees; like being Scott’s best friend makes him the de facto leader in this situation.  “No one does anything like that again.  Ok?”

Isaac resists the urge to bite the finger that the boy wags at him, but he just nods instead; rubbing at his wrist and wondering why the hell people always went after his wrists.

_Did he have some invisible ink tattoo that said “Break here?”_

His dad had done it; Derek had done it and now Jackson.

Isaac is grateful for his powers and he feels the bone begin to knit through the fractures, but it still seems like the world has a serious hatred for his arms.

“I thought the Ketamine was really supposed to put him out,” he groans as the healing takes its good old time to stop the pain.

“Yeah, well, apparently this is all we’re going to get,” declares Captain Obvious.  “So let’s just hope that whoever’s controlling him just decided to show up tonight.”

“I’m here,” Jackson suddenly says in a voice that clearly isn’t his own and every hair on Isaac’s body suddenly stands on end.  “I’m right here with you.”

_Isaac’s wrist?  Really suddenly not that big a deal in the scheme of things._

He moves to stand behind Stiles, not caring that he’s hiding behind the other kid just like Erica was.  He prides himself on not clinging to Stilinkski’s shoulder, though, like Erica is; and reasons that it’s only right that Stiles be the one out front if he’s going to take on the role of boss for the moment.

After a few minutes of them huddling together like frightened schoolgirls, Stiles shrugs them away and moves toward Jackson.  Isaac sits down on the edge of the sink and watches as the boy tries to talk to the guy; because Stilinski probably tries to talk to paint from what Isaac has seen of the kid.

The answer Stiles gets to his first question is disturbing on monumental levels and Isaac has nothing when the kid looks to him for guidance on what to say or ask next.

 _“We’re all here._ ”

 _We who?_ Isaac would have asked, but he isn’t about to do a damned thing to draw any more attention to himself.  _We where?  Why we?  What we?  How are **we** here? **Why** is **we** here?_

 _Cover the basics_ , he thinks, leaving out the ‘when’ because that was obviously **now**.

Stiles continues to probe with his own set of questions and Isaac admires the soft tone the boy keeps to avoid upsetting Jackson or the Kanima or the guy controlling the Kanima that _inside_ Jackson or who- _what_ -ever it is that they’re in the room with.  Isaac doesn’t, though, like the direction the questions and answers are going.

 _“They murdered me_.”

Isaac slowly pushes up from the sink and moves further back from the interrogation until he presses against the wall and can retreat no further.

 _A ghost?  Are they dealing with a **ghost**_?

Jackson’s neck bones crack as his head twists to face them all dead on and his eyes go from a nice, normal blue to the slitted yellow orbs of the Kanima with a nice blood red ring of anger around the irises.

Erica’s hand brushes against Isaac’s and he curls his fingers around it without hesitation as that _thing_ repeats more clearly, “They murdered **me**.”

Isaac looks toward the door thinking that Scott needs to be here for this; that he should _be here_ for this.

The other boy’s absence somehow makes the whole scene feel even wronger and Isaac wants to call for a time-out to go find out what’s happened to Scott because this ominous turn in the events of the evening makes Isaac certain that something has somehow happened to Scott.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There just may be no stopping the Kanima.

Stiles backs into them as he backs slowly away from Jackson and Isaac watches along with the others as scales overtake the skin of Jackson’s right arm.

There is no longer any doubt or denying that they are shut in this space with the Kanima.

“Ok, now,” Stiles begins to bluster in command without taking his eyes from the growing threat, “more ketamine.  The man needs ketamine.  Come on!”

Isaac stifles an urge to gulp as he locates one of the emptied vials that he had tucked back into his pocket while reloading the syringe.

“We don’t have any more,” he regrets to inform their fearful leader.

Stilinski goes still and closes his eyes against the reality of the words and an unmoving Stiles is definitely a sign of coming Armageddon.

“You used all of it,” the boy turns on him in disbelief and yanks the empty bottle from Isaac’s fingers.

Before Isaac can even begin to explain how Jackson just hadn’t stayed _still_ with any of the dosings, Erica shifts apprehensively and whimpers to get their attention back on the more relevant fact that they were all about to be paralyzed, _at best_ , or torn to pieces, _at worst_ , by the Kanima.

The sight of Whittemore rising to stand steady on his feet; half of his face and body transformed to the demon within him while the other half of him was still flesh…Isaac was going to have nightmares.  If he survived this, he realizes he will have to live the rest of his life with the knowledge that he had kinda just _made out_ with **_that_** less than thirty minutes ago. 

Jackson’s mouth opens on a snarling sound of aggression and Isaac falls back against the wall at the set of razor-sharp teeth exposed by the gesture. 

 _His tongue_ had been inside that mouth; where the hell had those teeth been hiding?!  What if he had licked over them while tongue wrestling with Jackson?  What if he had ingested that toxin while swapping spit with the other boy?  Sure, they all _said_ that Jackson was Jackson when he _was Jackson_ , but right now Isaac is seeing evidence to the contrary because Whittemore is half Jackson and half Kanima and **all** fucking scary.

“Ok,” Stiles utters in the dawning realization of horror and Jackson’s head and body begins to spasm in violent contortions as the transformation to demon kicks into high gear.  “Out,” Isaac turns to begin shoving the other boy out of his way without the added instruction.  “Everybody…”

Erica has the door open in a heartbeat for them to move as one single mass tangled together in their want to get the hell away from Jackson.  They tumble across the threshold to freedom and immediately race to close the door against their prisoner.

“Ok, find something to move across the door,” Stiles demands like _anything_ will hold the Kanima back.

As if to prove Isaac right, the demon bursts through the wall of the room without even making an attempt at the door the three of them are pressing against with every ounce of strength they had.

_Sure, it was just a few beams of two by four and sheets of tin metal, but did Whittemore **always** have to be such a show off?_

For a moment they all gaze after the blur of the Kanima as it races off.  Isaac is sure he isn’t alone in feeling a dizzying rush of relief as the demon completely ignores them and tears off with some other objective.  Then the realization strikes that _that means_ someone else is about to die and Isaac has failed Scott.

He pushes Stiles away and gives chase with a snarl; moving as quickly as he can he sees trace of the Kanima as he feels Erica joining him in the pursuit.  Isaac tries to look everywhere, high and low because that damned thing climbed like a vine, but _nothing_.

The hallway splits in three directions.  He knows Jackson hasn’t gone back into the rave because no bloodcurdling screams from the mindless mass have begun so he flicks a glance over his shoulder and jerks his head to order Erica down one dark corridor while he takes the other.

Isaac follows the smell as it hits his nostrils.  Knowing he’s too late, but still hoping to _contain_ the Kanima; he finds a burst of speed within himself and tears into the curtained off section of the warehouse as the woman’s body is still sliding a bloody trail down the milky plastic sheeting.  He hears the blood gurgling in her lungs and thinks how he will never again think of exsanguination with anything approaching humor as this stranger looks at him with the last of her life passing all to quickly before her dark eyes as she strangles on her own blood. 

Her throat had been slashed or God only knew what gruesome injury her hand covered as she still feebly clung to her jugular to try and stop herself from bleeding to death.  Isaac looks into her eyes and feels a kick at the realization that Scott McCall is the least of those that he has failed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he detects the last lurching beat of her heart before the last breath rattles from her body.

Erica bursts into the cordoned off area as he turns to flee it and he thinks quickly to cover her mouth before she can scream as she looks past him to the body on the floor.

“We have to find Jackson,” he orders with all the calm and control he can muster.

She shakes for a moment under his gaze and in the presence of gory death, before she nods calmly and pulls away from him. 

They move into the hallway to scan the area, both tilting their noses to the wind for any trace of the demon or the lacrosse player; neither having any idea which to be looking for at the moment.

Isaac growls at too many colognes and perfumes and hormones and distracting scents invading his nose as he also fails to block out the metallic smell of blood so thick he could taste it like a shiny copper penny in his mouth.

“Where?” Stiles runs into them and stammers out of breath.

“Go check outside, see if he made it outside the circle,” Isaac orders, quickly turning the kid on another mission to prevent Stilinski from seeing the dead girl.

“Right,” Stiles gulps and moves quickly to obey the instruction.

“Should we split up?” Erica asks after watching the other boy depart.

“Not a chance,” Isaac shakes his head in instant denial of that idea.  “”He’s just killed one person, we have to put as solid an obstacle in front of him as we can.”

She looks at him and nods quickly in acceptance of his thinking, but he can see the relief she feels at knowing she won’t be probing at shadows alone looking for their target.

“This is so bad,” she mutters as they begin to quickly search every nook and cranny of the warehouse.

A churning in Isaac’s gut and the itching sensation at the back of his neck tells Isaac that it’s all somehow even worse than they know, but he forces the thoughts aside to focus on the objective of just _finding_ the Kanima.

They move through the throng last of all, ignoring the crush of dancing bodies with the single-minded intent to get to the exit in search of some sign that Jackson had escaped.  Stiles is outside, beside is Jeep and talking to Derek, but Isaac ignores that as his senses tell him that the Kanima had been _here_.  The line of ash is unbroken, so if the vet’s hoodoo beliefs have any merit then that meant Jackson had not gotten past that line.

He looks up at Erica from his kneel to investigate the unbroken barrier and she looks fearfully back into the rave.  Isaac’s eyes move above her, because they had checked all of the inside; which left their quarry with only one place to go.

_Up._

“Go,” is all Derek has to say to spur him into motion.

Isaac’s claws dig into wood and brick and scratch loudly over metal as he scales the side of the building and leaps on to the roof.  He stops for a moment and stands there, panting to gain control over his senses even while looking around desperately for some sign of the Kanima.

Any thought or care about Jackson’s whereabouts is immediately lost, though, when the pained howl of a wolf pierces the night only choke off into a silence that freezes Isaac’s heart.

He suddenly knows where Scott is and why McCall has seemingly done nothing to carry out his own mission; Scott is dying.

Isaac’s claws extend and he feels his features transform with the wolf’s fury as he throws back his head and howls in return to the sound.  His cry echoes through the night; an instinctive bloodlust for revenge upon anyone who had dared to hurt Scott as well as a helpless wail at the idea that he had left the other boy exposed to such harm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am suddenly very seriously toying with the idea of Isaac biting Victoria....


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac can't lose Scott.

The mother Argent shrinks back against the wall when Isaac lands in a crouch nearby from leaping off the roof.  Her high heels skitter across the pavement in her gratifying speed to become invisible in the face of the werewolf’s fury.

Isaac hadn’t been leaping for her, though, he had simply run towards the source of Scott’s howl and that had led him here.  A growl builds in his chest as the pieces quickly fall into place with the help of her guilty and fearful expression.

“You’re too late,” she lashes out.

For a moment, Isaac’s mind goes blank as the words hit him with the idea that Scott is already dead.  Then a wash over red overtakes the darkness and he tenses against the flood of a pained anger the likes of which he’s never before experienced.

“Unless you mean to finish the job,” she gives a pained grunt and slowly drops the hand that had been gripping her shoulder. 

The smell of blood and sight of her torn cardigan still the fury as he realizes she hadn’t meant McCall, she had only been speaking and thinking of herself.  His fingers flex as his head tilts to study her; considering the idea of finishing the job.  Her shoulders straighten in anger and she throws her head back in a defiant gestures but he sees the want in her eyes and the deliberate attempt at manipulation in her exposing her jugular.

She wants him to kill her; _needs_ someone to kill her after her actions had earned her the bite of an Alpha. 

Isaac blinks at her as his body returns to normal.  His eyes are clear blue and burning with condescension as he looks her over from top to bottom.  He says nothing to her, just turns away.

Nothing he could do would be more fitting a fate than Victoria Argent becoming the thing she most hated and had just tried to kill; a werewolf.

He puts any thoughts of her drama aside and focuses his senses on finding Scott.  He smells Derek first; the scent of his Alpha’s blood, pain and fear being stronger than the traces of the other boy.  He swallows against the thought of those mere traces of scent he detects from McCall and races toward Derek. 

Around the corner of the building he finds them moving quickly and urgently to climb into the Jeep after placing Scott in the back.  Erica is in the backseat propping the boy up while Derek gets in the passenger seat and Stiles is fumbling to put the vehicle in motion while processing the graveness of his best friend’s situation.

Isaac gratefully takes advantage of Stilinski’s distraction to bolt across the distance and get in the Jeep before it can take off.  He moves in beside Scott and pulls the boy against him without hesitation.

“What happened?” he demands; feeling and hearing the wheezing struggle for breath in Scott’s lungs.  “What did she do?!”

“Wolfsbane,” Derek grunts, holding at the back of his shoulder in pain before snarling at Stiles to “GO!”

Isaac wants to demand more explanation, but knows there’s no point other than urging useless words to fill the incredibly intense stillness of the vehicle as Stilinski jams on the gas pedal.  The single word is enough to send his brain spinning with the possibilities and worries.  The herb is a weapon against their kind and the Argent’s did love to wield it against them with the deadliest intent.  Somehow Mrs. Argent had gotten it into Scott’s lungs where it was taking away all traces of the oxygen the boy desperately needs to live.

“Hurry up,” he growls at the driver while curling his fingers into Scott’s shirt and bending his head to breathe against the other boy’s blue tinting lips. 

Scott’s breath is a faint and erratic puff of warm moisture against Isaac’s cheek and the exhalation is pungent with Wolfsbane.  The scent of is it overwhelming and drives him back for a moment to shake off the way the herb almost immediately fogs his senses.

Scott struggles to draw in oxygen to replace the expelled breath and his fingers seek purchase for an anchor in the futile battle.  His hand grips at Isaac’s shirt before his head flops back against Isaac’s shoulder.  His mouth gapes open over a soundless pant as no more air moving in or out of his lungs. 

“Dammit, McCall,” Isaac growls helplessly.  “Don’t you do this to me,”

He turns to press the boy down flat on the bench seat as Erica scrambles nimbly over the seat into the back to get out of his way.  The angle is awkward and by no means accurate from a medical standpoint, but Isaac doesn’t hesitate to lean down over Scott, tilt the boy’s head back, open his mouth and breathe past those oxygen deprived lips. His inhalation of air barely stirs the chest under his own and he growls again in frustration.

Forcing himself to calm, he rearranges McCall on the seat and moves to straddle the boy’s hips.  He rears up to join his hands together then press them against the center of Scott’s chest.  Blaming an unhealthy obsession with Pamela Anderson and Baywatch for him actually having any kind of real knowledge of CPR he gives a quick series of compressions before bending down to pinch Scott’s nose closed and hold the boy’s mouth open for a harder, more focused breath.  Isaac empties his lungs into Scott’s and feels the chest beneath him actually expand with the rush of air. He drags himself back to draw in another chest full of air to send into McCall.

He repeats the compressions to force the spent oxygen out of the uncooperative body beneath him; praying his action help to force some of the Wolfsbane from Scott’s system. 

He repeats the dual breaths to refill Scott’s lungs then again pulls back to do the chest presses because through it all McCall remains unresponsive and Isaac keeps his mind focused on the repetition to stop himself from going crazy.

Erica’s hand touches his shoulder to try and urge him back when they finally pull up at the clinic, but he shakes her off and bends to breathe once more in Scott’s mouth.

Derek doesn’t bother with subtlety.  The Alpha rips the door open and nearly off its hinges, grabs Isaac by the scruff of his neck to yank him out of the vehicle then moves to drag Scott’s limp body into his arms. 

Isaac sits on the pavement the man had thrown him to and pants for air as he watches the pair flee into the building.  He wants desperately to run after them as Erica and Stiles do, but he’s just as desperate to stay there and hide from the possibility that the veterinarian might be unable to save Scott.

His right hand suddenly feels full and he raises it to study distractedly.

“Huh,” he shakes his head in some bafflement at the chunk of pavement he had torn from the parking lot with his clawing fingers.

He throws the chunk aside and pushes to his feet to force himself to join the others.  Entering the clinic is rather anticlimactic as he finds Erica and Stiles banished to the hallway with Boyd suddenly there to lean against the walls along side them. 

Isaac looks at the other werewolf with a faint frown before noticing the bandages on the boy’s bared torso.

“Fucking Argents,” he growls without having to ask what happened.

Boyd gives him a sideways glance at the words before giving a brief nod of agreement and returning to stare at the closed door of the room where Dr. Deaton is apparently working on Scott.  The barrier is solid and white without even a peep hole to look through; leaving the pack completely in the dark about the condition of their kin within that room.

Isaac takes position directly across from the barrier, braces himself against the wall and waits.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott makes a simple request of Isaac.

Waiting room scenes utterly suck.

In recent years, Isaac has grown familiar with the waiting to be examined by a doctor for an X-Ray or cast when his father’s anger got too uncontrolled, but this is only the second time that he’s sat waiting out of concern for the welfare of someone else.

That other time had ended horrifically with an exhausted surgeon wearily approaching to give the news that, despite all their efforts, his mom and brother had died as a result of the accident that they had been in.  Isaac had been sleeping in the back of the car when it wrecked and he had only a few bumps and bruises while his mother and brother had suffered fatal injuries in the front seats.  He had never really had any problems understanding why his dad hated him after that; Isaac had always railed against whatever fates that had allowed him to survive that night.

He knows deep within himself that if Scott dies; if that vet finally opens that door with his head hanging in defeat, then Isaac will inflict great suffering on those connected to his loss.  He’ll lash out at Derek and the pack before finding the Argent’s to show them how little they knew of why werewolves should be feared.  He would give Mrs. Argent the bloody death she wanted, but not before he has made her witness the horrific deaths of her husband and daughter.

He entertains the most violent of fantasies as they all wait; wonders who controls the Kanima and how he can take that control from them to sic Jackson on the true killers in Beacon Hills.  He would have the Kanima slay Gerard Argent and his entire following of ‘hunters.’

But not Mrs. Argent; Isaac would be sure he was the one to watch her life fade if she succeeded in killing Scott. 

_And for what had she done it?  Because the kid was a damned fool to love her daughter?_

The injustice of her actions raises his hackles and Isaac twitches visibly with the wish that he had not just walked away from her. 

His mind is in the process of ripping her limb from limb as she cowered against the blood sprayed side of the warehouse when the knob finally turns to open the damned door to the operating studio in the clinic.

Isaac scrambles ungainly to his feet from where he had slid to sit on the floor and his breath catches in his chest as Dr. Deaton moves slowly into the hallway.

His posture is tired and weary and in Isaac’s mind’s eye he sees the man redressed in bloody scrubs hastily covered by a white overcoat as the doctor prepares to deliver the worst news of Isaac’s life.

“He needs rest,” his ears tune in to finally hear over the rush of blood in his veins.  “You all do,” the veterinarian looks at each teenager in turn. 

They ignore him en masse, pushing past the man to burst into the room; Stiles somehow managing to get in before him as Erica and Boyd follow closely behind Isaac.  As one they stumble to a stop just inside the room at the sight of Scott lying still on a cold steel operating table while Derek sat leaning tiredly against the wall nearby.

“He’s right,” the Alpha sighs without opening his eyes at their entrance.  “You all should get home.”

“As if,” Erica snorts reflexively; drawing a narrow-eyed glare from the man. 

Her defiant posture falters under the stare, but Isaac is very proud to see that she regains her bravado and crosses the room to stand beside the Alpha.

“You’re hurt and those damned Argent’s put holes in Boyd and that _bitch_ did **_this to_**  Scott and we totally failed to stop Jackson from killing again,” her back is to him, but Isaac senses the salt of tears in her eyes.  “This night is fucked, but we’re Pack and we’re all still here and we stay together right now.”

Boyd moves to put a careful and reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder at her outburst while Stiles gapes at the scene and Isaac takes advantage of everyone’s distraction to move to Scott’s side. 

He can see the faint motion of the boy’s chest to prove that Scott is breathing on his own, but the sounds of breath are far too weak for Isaac’s liking.  Scott is too still and clearly unconscious; leading Isaac to question if the struggle for life is truly over.

“He’s sedated,” Derek says and Isaac’s eyes jump guiltily to find the Alpha staring at him.  “Deaton knocked him out some so that he doesn’t struggle too much against the poison leaving his body.”

_Leaving how?_

As soon as Isaac thinks it, they see the answer in the sudden spasm that wracks Scott’s body and lifts his torso from the table.

“Turn him on his side.”

Derek barks the order while moving to do it himself before Isaac stops him by diving to shift Scott from his back just before the boy’s convulses to expel a dark stream vile liquid from his mouth.  Erica takes one look at the vomit spreading on the floor; wrinkles her dainty nose and begins to step slowly from the room.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” she says despite her avowal seconds ago that they would all stay together.

“Yeah, that…that’s unnecessary,” Stiles gags before covering his mouth and turning to follow her escape.

 “How long will this last?” Isaac demands of the Alpha as the heaving stops and he allows Scott’s body to slump back on the table.

“Doc said he should be over the worst,” Derek meets his worried glance with something searching in his own eyes. 

After a moment, the Alpha turns to Boyd who had move to stand at the foot of the bed in case his assistance is needed.

“So lie down,” Derek orders the boy with a pointed look at one of Boyd’s bandages.  “You’re bleeding and won’t even begin to heal if you keep straining yourself.”

“You’re worried about him?” Derek asks as soon as they’re alone.

Isaac can only imagine at the depth of emotion he’s showing on his face in the moment and does nothing to refute the claim.

“You care about him?” the Alpha probes.

“I…,” Isaac wisely stops himself from uttering the first thing to spring to his tongue.  “I don’t know,” he sighs and slumps against the side of the table with his eyes on Scott’s pale, sweating features.

“Do you think you can distract him from Allison?”

Isaac’s immediate response to that question from way out in the left field is to snort a laugh; both wondering at Derek for asking such a thing and at the very notion that _he_ could pull any of Scott’s attention away from that girl even after her bitch mother has tried to kill him. 

Allison’s dad had already made his threats against the boy and that damned girl’s scent still lingered on Scott from all the stolen moments the two teenagers stole against her family’s decree that the relationship end.  While Isaac maybe kind of understands how she would have a hard time staying away from McCall; he still feels a righteous flash of fury for her selfishness is pursuing the illicit affair.

“He’s so stuck on her that Super Glue would kill for a patent on some of that shit,” he cracks wise, but the humor is hollow in his chest at the knowledge that McCall’s affections are likely to never be swayed.

“A lot has happened tonight,” Derek moves toward the door with a faintly cryptic look on his face.  “When I got to him, when I pulled him out of that room; he said something interesting before he passed out completely.”

Isaac frowns at the man, waiting for more and inwardly cursing the Alpha when he steps out into the hallways without saying anything else.

“What did he say?” he moves toward the hallway to ask.

“ _Your_ name,” Derek pops his head in with a knowing smirk before he pulls back out and closes the door behind him.

The idea is like a sucker punch that causes Isaac to stumble to a stop halfway between Scott’s side and the now closed door. 

Derek’s smirk makes him doubt the truth of such a notion; makes him think it more likely the Alpha manipulating Isaac’s emotions for some weird or twisted new objective.  His senses hadn’t detected any tells in the man, though, to indicate a lie.  In fact, Derek had been rather smug about having and delivering such a delicious tidbit of news.

Isaac looks back at Scott and remembers that moment when their eyes had met against that pillar.

_“I mean **you**.  I don’t want **you** to get hurt.”_

He replays the words in his head; changing the emphasis on different words while remembering all the while that dark, enigmatic _look_ in the boy’s eyes.  If Derek is telling the truth, then maybe Isaac hasn’t been a total fool for his visceral reaction to that moment.  Maybe Scott had said it with the intent of alerting Isaac to the fact that there was or _could be_ something between them.

Isaac moves to the chair against the wall that Derek had abandoned and he sits down hard as the idea boggles him.

Scott stirs at the sound of his body thudding down against the seat then the wall as he leant back and Isaac immediately leaps to his feet to move to the boy’s side.  McCall’s body moves sluggishly; fitful against its sedation and Isaac’s hand moves of its own will to rest reassuringly on the boy’s shoulder.

“Easy,” he soothes as one would a wounded and struggling animal.

Miraculously, it works.  The sudden tension fades from Scott’s body and he goes slack on the table; not in an unconscious sprawl as before, but more a restful pose. 

His chest rises on a deeply drawn breath then falls as the air is expelled through his slightly parted lips.  His nostrils flare on another inhalation and he holds it in his lungs before slowly releasing the breath with a faint furrowing to his brow.  He turns his head slightly toward Isaac and gives a quick series of what can only be called sniffs before he goes still again.

Isaac stands there; unmoving in confusion at the odd gestures.  His hand strokes over Scott’s shoulder before moving to the boy’s chest to ride the motion of his steadying breaths.  After a moment he comes to the startling realization that he sincerely wants to molest the boy and he pulls away as if burnt.

Before he can bolt back to the chair to keep his vigil from a safe distance, Scott stirs again.

“Isaac?”

His name is nothing more than a hoarse croak from a throat that has suffered unspeakable torments this night, but the single utterance has the power to change Isaac Lahey’s miserable life.

Scott’s eyelids flutter, drawing attention to eyelashes that are long and full for a boy’s and Isaac feels an odd urge to feel their wispy brush against the pads of his fingers.  While he’s grappling with that unfamiliar want, McCall’s eyes open and lock in on him with a liquid expression that punches Isaac had in the chest; right about where they say the human heart lies.

Those eyes are like a siren’s call to lure him back to put his hand again on Scott’s chest as he leans over the boy to hear what McCall might have to say next.

“Stay,” Scott breathes the word against Isaac’s ear as his fingers move to curl loosely around Isaac’s wrist.

His head turns slowly to stare at the other boy in disbelief; wondering with his usual self-deprecation exactly what the veterinarian had drugged the guy with.  The doubts fade, though, when he sees the clear and obvious _want_ In Scott’s dark eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his lips speaking the words a mere inch above Scott’s mouth.

He curses his life and drops his forehead to press against McCall’s; thinking that their first kiss would have to wait.  _Knowing_ that a kiss would actually come between them is enough to keep Isaac from cursing the whole moment.

He straightens to study the narrow surface that Scott is on and after a moment he determines that there is no conceivable way that he can lie down there with the boy.  Instead, he stretches out with his long leg to hook his foot around a leg of the chair and drag it closer to the gurney without dislodging his wrist from the light grip that Scott still has on it.

Isaac sits by the bed watching the other boy recover from his torture at the Argent’s hands and he lets go of his bloodlust against the woman; knowing McCall won’t want him harboring such darkness in his heart.  He lets go of a lot of angry and hurt at the knowledge that Scott wants _him_ there when he awakens from the sedation. 

If McCall wanted Isaac to stay with him then that meant that **Scott** would have to stay with **Isaac** and that was an idea that Isaac could definitely live with **.**

No matter where Jackson is at the moment; no matter the rave organizer that had been slain, the night is no longer an absolute failure.  Isaac has been entrusted with a duty that he can see himself fulfilling gladly; perhaps for the rest of his life if asked or allowed.

For once, he knows that there is something that he can do without fucking it all up; just _stay._

**_~The End~_ **

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I poke a bit of fun at Stiles here and kind of everywhere when writing Isaac, but please don't ever think I dislike the character myself. Stiles is beloved to me and remains the primary reason I am a Teen Wolf fan. That being said, I feel it in character for Isaac to dislike him just because of the position that Stilinski has in Scott's life.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Don't Want You To Get Hurt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/471031) by [ShadowKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowKnight/pseuds/ShadowKnight)




End file.
